Freakish B
by Zlo1313
Summary: "If L is a freak, B is an extreme freak." B was a normal child. He played, he learned. He listened to his mother. Yet, something dark lurked behind his ruby eyes. Something no one caught until it was too late. ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
1. Prologue

**The prologue to my Beyond story! It is rated M not for sexual situations, but for blood, gore, language, and just Beyond being Beyond. Please review and tell me if anything should be fixed!**

**I do not own Death Note.**

* * *

"What is with his eyes? Are they supposed to be that color?"

"Surely, it must be a temporary thing?"

"Or, a defect. No one in that family has red eyes, strange as they are."

"How gruesome! Look how they follow you!"

"Child of the devil, surely!"

The voices twitter, annoying him. Can't they tell he wants quiet? He wants to sleep, but the red nonsense hovering over their heads both distract and puzzle him. They are over every head in the room, each with different gibberish and spans. What are they? He yawns and nestles deeper into the blanket wrapped around him.

"Don't you women have anything better to do than criticize that baby? He's tired, can't you see?" A deep voice snaps and his eyes flit over to the only man in the room.

He's sturdy, but not burly, and wispy black hair he likes to slick back. His eyes are a cool green. Currently, though, they are narrowed and glowering at the woman flocked together in a corner. His family.

"But, Cam, even you can see that-"

"Beyond is a baby. Nothing more. Enough with this superstitious shit." Cam snaps. He turns to the baby in the crib and smiles slightly.

The baby coos. He likes Cam. He wishes he knows who he is. The women quietly leave the room, leaving Cam and the baby. His smile turns warmer.

"Little Beyond. Those eyes are going to give you trouble. But, that's okay. No one ever said life was an easy ride. I have a feeling, though, you are going to be just fine."

Beyond tilts his head to the side as he watches the second line of gibberish do something most strange. There had been several places filled with the nonsense and suddenly, there is only two places left. It worries Beyond. What does it mean? He watches it slide to an oblong shape and then Cam is falling. A frightening noise comes from his twitching body on the floor. Beyond is glad he can't see what is going on. He sees a slim figure hiding in the shadows of his room. Long black hair falls to her waist. The tangled mess covers her eyes and he watches her lips pull back in a gruesome smile.

"W-why?" Cam chokes out from the floor and it is silent in the tiny room once more.

The woman laughs. The noise scares him. Beyond screams.


	2. Bad B

**AiyanaMiyuki- Don't worry, the chapters will be much longer than the prologue**

**Imaginefun- XD You flatter me!**

**Warning(s): Animal abuse (T.T I hated writing it), child abuse**

**I do not own Death Note!**

* * *

"Break its legs." He looks up at his mother, cradling the tiny kitten to his chest.

"W-why? Kittles is my friend."

His mother glares and pain blinds him momentarily. He rubs his sore cheek. "That silly thing is most certainly not your friend. If it knew what you are, a freak, it would run. It would hate you. Everyone will hate you, Beyond."

Tears prick his eyes and he sniffles. His mother's eyes soften and she kneels down, stroking his hair.

"But, not me, Beyond. Do this and I will love you."

He looks down at the kitten. It mewls and its pink tongue darts out to lick his finger. He clasps its small leg between his hand and breaks it. The mewl turns into an unrealistic cry. He does the same to all the legs. He looks hopefully up at her mother. She smiles, stands up, and sticks her heel into the kitten's skull. Its screams of pain are abruptly silenced.

"There's my good boy." She croon. Beyond stands up and looks at the kitten's body. He should be used to this by now. That was the fifth kitten that week. There was Apple, then Babet, then Lollipop, then Clay, then-

_You know what would be more fun to kill besides these dumb animals? People._ That voice. It was getting louder every day. He subconsciously rubs his ear, as if that would make the voice stop.

"Mama, may I go and play?" He asks, looking hopefully over at the playground at the end of the block. He hears the shrieking laughter of children.

"I suppose so. Do not let them see the freak I know you are so bent on becoming." She warns before disappearing inside their house.

Beyond smiles and walks down the sidewalk.

"My name is Beyond and I am four years old. My birthday is in three days. I live with my mama, but not my papa because mama poisoned him because he was bad." He recites his introduction.

"My aunts live with us, too. They don't talk much and they're awfully skinny, but mama's working on fattening them up. One day, I'd like to own a kitten that doesn't end up hating me because I am a freak."

He pushes open the gate to the playground and beams. There are so many children! He's never seen so many in one place before! They are running, chasing, screaming, laughing, noise, noise, noise! Parents sit nearby, reading newspapers or books, talking with each other. He runs over to a group of children. They look at him and smile invitingly.

"Hi! What's your name?" One asks.

"My name's Beyond and I am four years old. My birthday is in three days. I live with my mama, but not my papa because mama poisoned him because he was bad." He says.

The children laugh, thinking he's joking, and he does, too. "Wanna play?"

Before he responds, a mother swoops down and pushes him away from the group.

"Get back, you! Children, you must not talk to him. He's a very bad child from a bad family." She scolds, all the while glaring at him.

The glare frightens him and he looks back at the children. They are staring at him with newfound fear in their eyes. He whimpers and backs away. He goes over to the swings. The children on them squeal and jump off, running to their parents. He sits on a swing and suddenly, he's all alone. It's too quiet. No more noise or children. He watches the parents take their children back home, looking back at the red eyed child nervously as though he may jump onto their backs.

Beyond sniffles and kicks his feet a little. He doesn't feel like swinging alone. He wants someone to swing with, challenging each other to jump off, but never doing it because they are secretly afraid. He doesn't hear the girl slide into the swing beside him. She swings and pouts when she notices he hasn't said anything.

"Hiya!" She greets, slowing her swinging.

Startled, he looks up at her. She has a friendly smile on her face, revealing she's lost her front tooth, so he guesses she is a couple years older than himself. She has long white blonde hair in a plait tied off with a rainbow ribbon. She's wearing a jumper with a polychromatic long sleeved shirt. She has black mary janes on her feet and droopy blue socks. Her eyes are about as colorful as water, but filled with warmth.

"W-won't your mommy be mad if you're talking to me?" He asks pitifully, looking away.

"Well, gee, I don't have a mommy. I'm an orphan." He looks up at her with surprise.

"Who takes care of you then?" He inquires, curious.

She pumps her legs and continues to swing, smiling wistfully as she does so. "Mr. Wammy takes care of me, he does. Over at the orphanage a few miles away. It's an okay place. We have a lot of classes and the work is difficult sometimes, but it's for a good reason."

He starts to swing beside her. "What's your name?"

"I'm C. Can't tell you my real name." She winks like it's all just a game.

Beyond frowns and looks at her head. He is getting better at making sense of the floating nonsense. C-L-A-R-I-C-E. Klar-ice? What a weird name, he thinks. He looks at the second word. H-A-C-K-E-R-M-A-N. Hackerman? Is that right? He stares at the numbers beneath her name. 34591850 What does it mean? He still needs to come up with a formula for the numbers.

"Hey, whatcha staring at?" Beyond blinks and looks at her. She stares back at him with concern on her plump little face.

"Nothing. I saw a bug." He lies.

They stare at each other for a few minutes. Then, she prompts, "Well?"

"'Well' what?"

"What's your name?" She finally asks impatiently.

"O-oh. My name is Beyond and I am four years old. My birthday is in three days. I live with my mama but not my papa because mama poisoned him because he was bad."

Unlike the other children, C looks at him with horror. "Your mom killed your dad?"

He furrows his brow. "No, not kill. Punished! He was bad. I don't know what he did, but mama insists he was bad, so it must be true!"

"Beyond, does your mom hurt you?"

"Only when I'm bad and don't listen to her! I've gotta learn to obey her orders right away or else she won't love me. And I'm a freak. Only she will ever love me." Something hot hits his leg and he looks down. It's a tear.

Surprised, he touches his cheeks and his hand comes back wet. He's crying. He stops swinging and furiously rubs his face, but the rivets continue their track down his face. He doesn't understand. Why is he crying? He isn't in pain. So why-

A hand on his shoulder. He looks at C. She looks back at him with sympathy. "Don't you have any family you can stay with other than your mom?"

He shakes his head. "My aunts live with us."

"Well, do they know what's going on?"

"They don't talk much and they're awfully skinny, but mama's working on fattening them up." He answers almost robotically.

C stares hard at him before pulling out a marker and a piece of paper. She scribbles something down on the paper before shoving it into his hand.

"You can read, right?" She asks.

Beyond lifts a shoulder and lowers it again. "I'm working on it."

"If you feel like you need some place to go, come to Wammy's House. It's the orphanage I was talking about."

She looks up at the setting sun. "I've gotta go now, but maybe we can play together soon!"

She waves and runs off, disappearing down the street. Beyond looks at the paper before pocketing it. He hopes his mother doesn't find it. He leaves the playground and rushes back home.

His mother is waiting for him, a wooden spoon in her hand. She glowers at him and he ducks his head.

"Beyond, I've told you time and time again to be home before sunset!"

"I-I'm sorry, mama, I-" WHACK!

The force knocks him off his feet. He lands on his bottom and sits there a moment, stunned. The pain in his head throbs something terrible. Before he can even squeeze out the first tear, another sharp pain on his head. He curls up in a ball. He shuts his eyes. He tries to shield his head, but that makes his mother even angrier.

"You-worthless-no-good-bastard-I-hate-you-I-wish-you-would-just-die!" Each word is punctuated with a hit.

Blood pours from his head, matting his black hair. The blows slowly stop and all he can hear in that kitchen is his mother's panting. She drops the bloodied spoon and stumbles out of the kitchen. Beyond struggles to his feet.

The room spins.

He falls.

He wishes

He

would

just

die.


	3. Clever B

**AiyanaMiyuki- You never know~ ^^**

**Imaginefun- Actually, I view her more as a psychopathic schizophrenic. Masochist? Eh, not really. She genuinely loves Beyond and wants him to be an "upstanding man," granted her methods are messed up. And she's just seriously crazy!**

**I do not own Death Note! Warning(s): Blood, some gore**

* * *

An eight year old Beyond grips the gate of the playground, watching the children play with a look of hunger. None of the children notice him lurking behind the gate, too caught up in their game of tag. Then, one strays over to him. A boy with cinreal hair and champagne colored eyes.

"Whatcha doin?" He asks, head tilted cutely to the side.

Beyond reads his name. Ambrose Killingworth. 561092. He only has three years, at best, Beyond realizes.

"I'm Beyond." He says, smiling politely.

Ambrose smiles back. "Name's Ambrose! Do you wanna play?"

His smile falls and he shakes his head. "I'd rather play at my own house. I have tons of board games...like Cluedo. Want to come over?"

If possible, Ambrose's smile widens. Beyond wonders if his cheeks are going to split. "Okay!"

Beyond steps back to let Ambrose open the gate and the two walk together, hand in hand. As his house looms into sight, Beyond tightens his grip on Ambrose's hand. The boy is no older than six, he figures.

"Where's your mom?" Beyond queries.

"She lets me go to the park by myself since we live across the street from it. We just moved here." Ambrose says.

Beyond suppresses the urge to laugh. It's almost too perfect! He opens the door to his house and ushers Ambrose inside. He takes him to his room and closes the door behind him.

His room is small, cramped, the walls bloody in places. Sporadic, but evenly spaced enough to make any curious eyes to think the blood is simply a pattern on the white painted walls. Beyond can't remember whose blood is on his walls.

"You have a nice room." Ambrose says politely.

"Thank you. Wait here: I'm going to get the game." He leaves the other boy in his room and rushes to the kitchen.

He shushes his aunt Queenie, who is sitting at the table.

"I have a friend over. Don't ruin this for me. And eat your soup, Auntie Queenie. You know Mama doesn't like it when you don't eat your food." He chides, grabbing a butcher knife.

Silence greets him and he beams. "Thank you, Auntie Queenie. Eat up."

He leaves the kitchen and goes back upstairs, hiding the knife behind his back.

"I can't find Cluedo, but I have a better game. It's called 'Canvas.'" He sings, stepping into his room.

Ambrose, who is sitting on the floor, smiles at the idea of learning a new game. "I've never heard of that game before. How do you play it?"

Beyond grins and walks over to him. He wields the knife and slashes Ambrose's chest. The boy squeals and Beyond shudders.

"I just love the color of blood. No red is as pure nor as dead. And the way it blooms only where the skin is broken." He licks some of the blood off the knife.

"Shall I paint you in this rosy red, little boy?" He asks rhetorically before letting himself go.

Ambrose's screams die down after an hour and he's staring up at the ceiling with teary eyes. He's still breathing because Beyond doesn't want him to die.

"It isn't your time yet, Ambrose. I won't kill you unless it's your time." Beyond marvels at his handiwork.  
He's etched hundreds of B's into Ambrose's ashy skin, the most obvious place being on the boy's collarbone. He thought about cutting off a finger or two, but settles for a toe.

Ambrose whimpers and looks at him. "W-why did you-"

"Mama taught me. She's a great teacher. I wanna be just like her when I grow up." Beyond states proudly, puffing his chest out a little.

Then, he hears sirens. Curious, he peeks out his window and sees a police cruiser. The front door is kicked down and he hears his mother screeching at the police to leave.

"You are invading my property!"

"Briar Birthday, you are under arrest for several counts of murder and negligence of a child. Anything you say can and will be used against you..." The voice faded and his mother's screams came from outside now.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs. Beyond has to think fast. He grabs his knife and slashes himself across the face and hands. He grabs Ambrose and drags him into a corner. He cradles the smaller boy's body and lets tears spring to life in his eyes. He hisses in Ambrose's ear, "You are not to speak. You do and I will kill you. And that's a promise."

Ambrose whimpers and Beyond's door is kicked down. A few officers armed to the teeth enter and lower their guns when they see the two bloodied, cowering children.

"D-don't hurt us!" Beyond cries, hugging Ambrose tighter to his body.

One steps closer, palms facing them. "It's okay, boys, we aren't going to hurt you. What happened?"

"O-Our mama hurt us. She's always doing that. She starves my aunts, you know."

"'Aunts?' There are others living here?"

Beyond nods. "My aunt Queenie is sitting in the kitchen. Auntie Flora, Lucia, and Maureen are in the living room watching TV."

The officer looks confused behind his mask and Beyond hears one of them mutter, "He must mean the skeletons."

A look Beyond hates most in the world spread across the men's faces. Pity. He doesn't need to be pitied. He keeps his fearful expression in place, though, no matter how much he longs to grab the butcher knife and cut out their eyes and tongue and sew up their mouths and-

He and Ambrose are being picked up, taken out of the house, and placed in a waiting ambulance. Beyond knows where they are going and doesn't like it. He hates the antiseptic smell and seeing all those floating numbers and watching them run out. Still, he lets them poke and prod him and diagnose him (schizophrenia, what's that?). He is relieved when he is allowed to lay on his temporary bed. Ambrose is in the same room as him, already snoozing. It's quiet in the room save for the EKGs beeping incessantly. He feels himself drifting off. However, his peace is short lived.

"Beyond!" A familiar white blonde head bops into the room, holding the hand of an elderly man wearing a black fedora hat.

He sits up and plasters on a fake smile. Part of him is genuinely happy to see C again, but another part just wants to rip her vocal chords out. He looks at the man who came in with her. His name says Quillsh Wammy. 870129345. He has another decade at least, Beyond deduces.

"Hi, C. It's nice to see you."

"Beyond, this is Mr. Wammy. He runs the orphanage I told you about. I told him about you and he'd like to offer you a place to stay!" She says excitedly.

"Great." He sounds less enthused, but doesn't let his smile falter.

"It is nice to meet you, Beyond. All you need to do is take an entrance exam. I will administer it once you and your friend are feeling better." Mr. Wammy says.

Beyond kind of likes him. He is polite and seems to sense all Beyond wants to do is sleep. He nods and C waves.

"I'll see you at the orphanage!" She giggles, flouncing out of the room with Mr. Wammy.

Beyond sighs and falls back onto his pillow. His eyelids feel heavy. Was it just his imagination or was C's numbers even lower than before? He wonders what caused it. He falls asleep dreaming of his aunts and his father.

They warn him not to trust the voice in his head. He reminds them they're dead, then asks his aunts how long they have been dead. He honestly never realized it. They can't answer, their mandibles missing. They were just walking skeletons in his dream, their occipital orbits staring lifelessly at him. How can skeletons warn him anyway? As for his father, standing there tall and straight, he looks at him the same way the police stared at him. Pity. He screams and a knife materializes in his hand and he lunges at his father and rips his eyes out. His father writhes as though he is in pain, but Beyond can't hear his screams. It disappoints him, but then he sees why.

He's clutching his father's vocal chords in his hand. How did that get there? He laughs gleefully and drops the chords onto the achromatic ground. His aunts' femurs quake and he rolls his eyes. As if he could harm them. He goes for the only flesh and blood present besides himself. He sews his father's mouth shut and cuts his fingers off, humming a merry tune as he does so. Soon, the too white ground is stained crimson. Beyond rubs his hands in his father's blood, not realizing his body has disappeared.

"I love blood," He tries to say, but no sound comes out. He frowns and tries again only to have the same result.

He clutches his throat only to feel a gash. He falls forward and looks up. He sees himself, his ruby eyes flashing malevolently. He is afraid and the other Beyond whispers, "You know what would be especially freeing?"

He shakes his head once and finds himself unable to pry his eyes away as the other Beyond raises a knife to his throat and slices his own head cleanly off. The head rolls to where Beyond is lying, bleeding out. It has a stupid grin on its face, its eyes wide and unblinking.

"Kill yourself." It hisses and then everything goes black.

He sits up in bed, rubbing his throat self consciously. There is no gash, no blood. He whispers his other half's suggestion.

"Kill myself?"

He has thought of it before, his young mind drifting to various ideas. He considered once taking someone with him. His mother, most likely, but he would have settled for wide scale casualties. But, he beats the idea out of his head.

He would rather die alone.


	4. Bored B

**Aiyana Miyuki- XD Trouble finds B!**

**Imaginefun- Yes, Queenie is dead. And yes, your first question is a yes.**

**Sorry this is short, I was having a hard time thinking of how to break it up, but I am satisfied with it. I promise the next chapter will be longer!**

**I do not own Death Note!**

* * *

He yawns boredly as passes through the gate to Wammy's House. He and Ambrose, or rather Alternative, had moved through the entrance exam easily, both getting perfect scores. Beyond (oops, he means "Backup") convinced Wammy Alternative was his brother, so they were not separated. Counterfeit smiles happily as she shows them around.

"The first floor serves as classrooms. The dining hall is also found down here. The second floor hold the boys' rooms and the third floor is the girls'." She informs him, grasping his hand in hers.

He chose to ignore her rambling (he could care less about the layout of this place, he would figure it out on his own) to focus on her lifespan. It is jumping around, the numbers increasing, then decreasing just as fast. He's never seen anything like it before. He suddenly feels aware of her sticky fingers clasping his hand. He scowls, hating the feeling. He hates being in contact with other people. It made him feel disgusting afterward. He would have to clean himself after. He starts to think of ways to get her to release his hand. One way involves breaking her fingers, the other meant sinking his teeth into her hand, still stubby and plump with baby fat. As he thinks of ways, her lifespan seems to settle on its numbers.

"Six." She turns to look at him in confusion.

"Six what?" She asks.

Beyond grins. "Six more years. That is how long you have to live."

C blinks and laughs, if not a little nervously. "That's not very funny, B. You shouldn't joke about things like that."

How could he have ever liked her when he was younger? His grin falls and he narrows his eyes at her.

"I'm not joking,_ Clarice Hackerman_."

Her sallow face pales more so and she releases his hand. There's one way, he thinks, amused by her expression. She looks startled, angry, and perhaps fearful.

"How do you-That isn't fair! You can't blurt my name out; it's _my_ name! You looked at my files, didn't you?" She points an accusatory finger at him.

"No. I just know it. It's a shame you don't have the same gift as me." He walks past her. "Thank you for the tour; it was wonderfully boring."

Beyond returns to his room with Alternative. Alternative goes to his bed and pulls a book out from under his mattress. Before he could tuck into it, Beyond plucks it from his hands and reads the title, ignoring the boy's feeble protests.

"'The Murders in the Rue Morgue?' Aren't you a bit young to be reading such a morbid story?" He tosses the book back to Alternative, who misses. The book falls to the floor.

Flustered, Alternative hugs the book to his chest after he bent down to pick it up. "I-I like Edgar Allan Poe."

Beyond grins sadistically. "My favorite of his is 'The Pit and the Pendulum.' I've re-enacted it once with a cat. I went satisfyingly well, if I do say so myself, only the cat did not have the aid of rats. Would you like to help me re-enact it?"

With a whimper, Alternative shakes his head. "I-I don't like that story..."

Beyond pouts. "A shame. I don't particularly like 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' so I don't want to re-enact that. I guess I'll have to find someone else to play with me."

He leaves the room and wanders through the orphanage. He scopes out for potential "playmates." He scowls when he doesn't see any, so he goes outside. He sits on a stone bench underneath a large tree. He watches the children play. The weather outside is pleasantly warm with occasional cool breezes. The sun was too bright and Beyond squints his eyes. He's afraid he'll go blind if he stays out any longer and retreats back into the orphanage. There was no one interesting outside anyway.

At dinner, he studies the stew in front of him with disdain. Alternative eats eagerly, having missed lunch and Beyond had taken his breakfast, not sparing him a glance. Beyond spoons in some stew into his mouth. It was tangy from the mixed flavors of beef and carrots. He forces himself to swallow and grimaces as the hot brew slides down his throat. It leaves him with an unpleasant aftertaste and pushes the bowl away from himself.

"Aren't you hungry?" Alternative asks timidly.

"How can you eat that disgusting stuff? It's so bitter. I hate bitter things." He grouses, standing up.

Alternative shrugs nervously and Beyond goes back to the buffet line. There's a slice of apple pie. He isn't fond of apple pie, but he needed something sweet to take place the bitter aftertaste, so he shovels it into his mouth without really tasting it. It did the trick and he found himself in a better mood. He goes to his room and flops down on his bed. The mattress isn't particularly soft, but it is more comfortable than his old bed back home. He is half asleep when Alternative returns.

He watches the younger boy through half lidded eyes. He is getting ready for bed, going into the bathroom, presumably to brush his teeth. He considers playing with Alternative before bed, but decides against it. He's too tired to play.

* * *

"L has decided Alternative, Backup, and Counterfeit will be his top successors." Roger announces to the three children standing before him.

Beyond and Alternative have been there for a little more than a year. Beyond winces when he hears his alias. Backup. Backup what? When it came down to things, Beyond would not be L's backup. No, he would rather run and not look back.

"Alternative, with you being number one in the orphanage, L expects greater things from you. Your classes will be more advanced and more centered around becoming L."

Alternative's ashy face paled, but he nodded. Beyond could tell he wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility; the boy was only twelve! All he could do was sit back and watch Alternative work his body into the ground as he tried to keep up with the overload of homework. Beyond went to bed and Alternative would still be awake and working when he'd wake up.

Beyond's work is difficult as well, but he is older, more experienced in dealing with stress. He watches Alternative's fragile mind fracture and wonders when it will shatter. He isn't sure if he wants to see it happen. He religiously watches Alternative's lifespan, watching it decrease dramatically to a hair breadth's away from 0, only to soar up to another decade. He came to a conclusion.

Alternative is thinking of ways to kill himself, then talks himself out of it again. Beyond grins at the thought. Perhaps, when the time comes and the lifespan remains dangerously low, Beyond will offer his services. He's always wanted to take a life nearing its end. It would make him feel like God.


	5. Helpful B

**AiyanaMiyuki- Yeah, I've always felt a little sorry for A**

**Imaginefun- XD Creepy is my specialty!**

**Warning: Blood**

**I do not own Death Note!**

* * *

Alternative, who likes to be called A, is very shy. He doesn't speak unless spoken to, his words limited to short monosyllabic sentences. He is polite, his silence not out of arrogance, but rather he doesn't have anything to say. His teachers wish he would speak more during class, but let it go when they see his work. He is brilliant. He is worthy to be L. The only one who doesn't think so is A himself.

Alternative, who B likes to call Phony, is a nervous twelve year old. He fidgets in his seat and his head and fingers twitch. He wasn't this bad when he first arrived at Wammy's, but no one can figure out what is wrong. He is even more nervous when B isn't around. B is his security blanket. B is kind to him. B talks him from going over the edge. A is cutting himself, the orphans whisper. Is the pressure getting to him? They spot the deep wounds that look eerily like "B." They whisper he is obsessed with Backup. They hiss A and B are committing sodomy. One claims he heard A crying out B's name. Another orphan states C is in on it to.

No one sees the bigger picture. A is the victim, B is the puppet master, and C has been roped in as well.  
A cries. He pleads. Beyond ignores him, grinning as he carves into the boy's body. A tries to push him away, but the teen-aged Beyond is too powerful. He makes another "B" in A's chest. A's cry turns into a thin wail that sends pleasurable chills up Beyond's spine.

"Beautiful, make that noise again." Beyond croons, digging his knife in deeper.

A startled gasp snaps him out of his enthrallment. He snaps his head up and narrows his eyes. C is standing there, a hand covering her mouth. She looks horrified as she stares at A's bloody body. A whimpers, half conscious. Beyond stands up and, as though she remembered he is there, C runs. In just a couple steps, Beyond is on her and tackles her to the ground. She cries out and he hears her bring in air to scream. He digs his knife into the back of her neck, cutting into the pale skin. The air she was sucking in escapes with a loud exhale. Beyond feels her body quake beneath him.

"If you scream, I will rip your pretty little head clean off your shoulders. Listen, you didn't see anything. You didn't hear anything. If anyone asks, you don't know anything. I find out you told anyone, I will make sure your two remaining years drop to a second." He hisses in her ear. He pushes the knife further in and she lets out a choked cry.

"O-okay." She whispers.

He gets off her and she scrambles away from him. Her colorless eyes were boiling with rage and fear. He smirks at her and the rage deepens. She wants to throttle him, but she is too afraid to. Beyond knows it isn't in her to hurt others. She is a kind soul, living a simple, mediocre existence. The best she can do is glare at him and wish the plague on his house. He turns his back on her, deliberately, and returns to his room.

A is still laying on the ground, too petrified to move without Beyond giving him permission. Beyond kicks him in the ribs.

"Clean yourself up; you're staining the wood." He spits, glowering at A's pathetic form. Like it is his fault he is bleeding.

A scuttles into the bathroom and a minute later, Beyond hears the shower running. He takes the time to clean his knife and hide it away in the bottom of his sock drawer. No one goes in the drawer, but he is paranoid. He doesn't want anyone finding out his fun. They might want in on it.

A couple days later, C is glaring daggers at him. Despite it being May, she has a scarf wrapped around her throat. No one questions her odd choice, it is Counterfeit after all, so she can get away with it. Beyond smiles coyly and winks at her. Her face flushes, not with pleasure, but indignation. He takes his seat in their first class: Calculus.

Beyond hates Calculus. It isn't that he doesn't understand it. Rather, he finds it to be a tedious and cumbersome class. It's boring, it doesn't challenge his sharp intelligence. He had already read the textbook from the first page to the last and retained every lesson, ever formula depicted in the five hundred paged book. He has a rare gift most of the other orphans save for A don't have: an eidetic memory. It's convenient; he never has to look anything up. His mind absorbs information like a sponge.

A sits beside him, his hands fidgeting nervously underneath his desk. He is just far enough away Beyond can't mess with him. It is a temporary relief from the physical pain, but Beyond doesn't stop with the peripheral glances and bloodthirsty grins. A picks at his nails and by the end of the class, his nail beds are bleeding.

The two boys walk together to the garden. It is required the orphans spend at least an hour outside a day. Beyond hates going outside. The sun is too bright, too warm, too cheerful. He would prefer to go out at night. He likes the moon. It is everything he likes. Beyond sits underneath the large oak tree and watches the children play. They shriek with laughter as they play tag. A is sitting obediently beside him. Beyond glances at him.

"Would you like to go play with them?" He asks.

A shakes his head wildly. "N-no, I like to sit with you, B. You're my best friend."

The words are spurious, but they fill Beyond with a mild sense of happiness. "How about we play a game? I've come up with a new one. I think you'll enjoy it."

A looks at him cautiously, but stands up nonetheless. Beyond stands as well and leads A back to their room.

Ever since he realized why A's numbers were constantly jumping around, he has taken to wondering how to offer his "assistance" to A's death. He finally came up with a most curious experimentation he would like to try.

Once they get to their room, Beyond shuts and locks the door and pins A against the wall. A's breath stops with surprise before it begins to leave his lips in short little puffs. His numbers jump to twelve.

"I know you've been thinking about suicide." A's eyes widen with shock.

Beyond shoots him an irritated glare. "Come now, did you really underestimate my intelligence that much? I would like to help you and I've come up with something most satisfactory."

"W-what?" A whispers, his body going limp. Beyond is satisfied; A is already giving up.

"I've always wanted to test out the dexterity of the small intestines. Did you know they are roughly twenty feet long? I'm sure you've considered hanging. How about being hung by your own intestines? That sounds like fun, doesn't it?" Beyond giggles at the very idea.

"Go out with a bang! The others will talk about the spectacularly bizarre death of A! What do you say?" He croons in A's ear.

A's amber eyes are dull. His shoulders sag and he slowly nods his consent. Beyond releases him and hops energetically over to his drawer. He pulls out his beloved butcher knife. He pushes A down onto the ground and rips the lower half of his shirt off. He places the knife against the scarred skin of A's stomach and presses in.

A horrible scream bubbles up in A's throat as he writhes. Beyond cuts him horizontally. He watches A's face euphorically. His eyes are wide with pain and his mouth is a perfect "O" as he screams. Beyond shudders. Simply beautiful. Then, he looks at A's numbers. They soar. He grits his teeth and glares at A. He wrenches the knife out.

"S-stop! I don't want to die! No more pain, please!" A sobs, hands weakly scrabbling at the deep wound on his stomach.

"Fine." Beyond spits, standing up.

A sits up shakily, hiccuping. Blood pours out of the wound, staining A's jeans.

"I-I'm going to take a shower and take care of this..." He murmurs almost inaudibly.

When Beyond makes no move to stop him, he limps into the bathroom, shutting the door. The shower runs.

And runs. And runs. And runs.

"A! You're going to use all the hot water! Get out of there." The shower still runs and Beyond growls. A has never been this disobedient before. He opens the door and steps inside the steamy room.

The plug is over the drain in the bathtub. The water is stained red. A's naked body is face down in the water. Beyond's eyes widen. Nononononono. _HE_ was supposed to be the one to kill A! A ruined the game, ruined B's fun! Beyond clenches his fists and feels something burning slide rapidly down his pale cheeks. He touches the hot liquid and tastes it. It is salty. He doesn't remember the last time he cried.

He inhales deeply and screams.


End file.
